


Some Bonds Will Never Break

by DancingInTheDark85



Category: Dredd (2012), Judge Dredd - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, F/M, Friendship, Male-Female Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 21:40:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11090466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingInTheDark85/pseuds/DancingInTheDark85
Summary: Anderson knows something is wrong as soon as she gets called to the riot, she should have been able to pick up on other things that were wrong too, but she'd always been warned her emotions would cloud her judgement. A powerful psychic and someone from Dredd's past look set to cause devastation to the city and it's heroes.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So quite a few months ago, as part of my Karl Urban binge I watched Dredd and loved it. I checked out the Dredd fics on here and on fanfiction.net and was struck with a few things. The first is I was new to AO3 and there is a LOT of porn, the second is that a lot of stories I read, Dredd seemed to be a little out of character. As I was writing a lot of other fanfic at the time, I started this side project with the thought that I could perhaps write a little M rated story while keeping true to the essence of the movie. But it grew legs, formed a plot and became a full-fledged story in its own right.
> 
> I have to admit, I haven't read the comics, therefore this is firmly set in the movie-universe. If you're a comics fan and you think I haven't got something quite right and have a suggestion to improve it that won't derail my whole story, I'll hear ya. In an attempt to fit both universes, my characters swear in current vernacular but also with liberal use of the word 'drokk'. I figure while the future has new swear words, they've not forgotten our ones. Also, I apologise for taking the helmet off but I hope I've dealt with it in a suitable manner. Although Karl Urban has proven on twitter that he sits around his house drinking coffee with his Judge helmet on, I fail to believe Dredd does.

She hastily threw on a vest and shorts and went to answer the strong, persistent knock at the door, tousling her blonde hair dry as she crossed the small apartment bare footed. She sensed the urgency of the man behind it, and it made her tired fingers fumble as she unbolted the strong metal door.

He pushed it aside as she stepped back to allow him entry, half dressed, the way she'd left him, in a black tee shirt and uniform leather pants, his left arm encased in a plasti-cast up to the elbow, helmetless but with his face obscured by shadow.

He didn't say anything but grabbed her, his hands clasping her bare biceps as he drew her into him and kissed her roughly. She was stunned by the action, the feel of his soft lips and scratchy stubble against her skin, the way he sucked on her lower lip and pushed for entry to her mouth with his hot tongue. She staggered backward but he went with her until she had her back pressed up against the wall and he was pinning her there, his knee resting firmly between her thighs, the leather grinding against her bare skin.

She pulled out of the hungry kiss with a gasp, "What are you doing?" This was so unlike him she didn't know where to begin.

"I want you." He growled, grinding his leg into her groin, igniting a warmth there that she'd always tried hard to ignore.

"We can't. What about the code? This isn't like you?" The door had been left wide open, anyone walking down the corridor would be able to see them, she realised with embarrassment.

"Fuck the code. I almost died today, again. How long do I have to keep denying myself what I really want?" And as his lips fell upon her again his rough calloused hand slipped over her hip and beneath the waistband of her shorts.

***

Four Hours Earlier

Judge Cassandra Anderson had only one thing on her mind as she zipped through the late night traffic on her LawMaster; a shower, long enough to completely deplete her hot water allowance followed by her bed. She was hungry too, it had been about twenty hours since she'd last managed to scarf down a nutri-shake en route to the next call. She had nothing in her apartment, she could get something delivered, but she'd probably only fall asleep half way through eating it. She hated wasting food and hard earned credits, an early upbringing in the poverty-ridden mega-blocks had cured her of that. Besides, she could hardly afford to throw stuff away, not on a judges salary. They were supposed to be paid enough to prevent the temptation of corruption, but as the government struggled with their finances; streets falling into disrepair, hospitals failing, the welfare system collapsing, under the crush of population growth, then the fair payment of judges had fallen by the wayside. Instead they relied on the indoctrination that all judges went through in training and pushed and pushed to get the job done.

Anderson couldn't complain, not really, she'd known what she was getting in for, better than most, she'd been able to read it in almost every judge she'd met; hunger, pain, exhaustion, the over-riding phrase 'the jobs drokked'. It was different when they started, the older judges would insist, there were enough of them that still believed in what they were doing, the job had always been tough but they'd been looked after, respected for it. Now they'd staple up your wounds, throw you a tasteless nutrition bar and give you five minutes in a sleep pod before sending you back out to the streets again.

Her shift had officially finished three hours ago, but a simple domestic had turned into something more when her perp had unknowingly spilled the beans about his illegal gun business and had given her the names of his colleagues. Being psychic in this job helped immensely, except for when it came to clocking off on time. By the time the meat wagon arrived to collect her perp she actually had five of them, handcuffed and kneeling obediently as they awaited their trip to the isocubes. Done now though, and a whole day off tomorrow, her first in about two weeks.

She pulled her bike off the highway, heading out of Sector 13 and towards her apartment block, a run down little place but practically crime-free due to the number of judges that lived there, when her wrist comm beeped and vibrated. A message flashed up on her helmet screen, which she only ever wore when riding her bike, 'Urgent assist, Paris House, judges under fire'. "Drokk!" She cursed as she spun her bike back around. Hopefully by the time she got there it would all be under control but she couldn't leave a fellow judge in distress even if she was on the way home.

As she got nearer she was joined by other judges, riding LawMasters of their own. She knew they were nearing the right place when something sailed through the air and landed just beside her front wheel. It burst on the ground and showered orange flames across the tarmac, a Molotov cocktail. She felt the crowd, even before she got within sight of them, hundreds of angry minds, their thoughts hazy with their outrage. It was an odd thing, normally she could scan a crowd and pick up individuals thoughts, but in cases of mass hysteria it became difficult. In protests and riots, the group fed off each other's energy, amping up the general psychic feeling but making them undefinable. She might do better with her helmet off, but for once she thought it best to keep it firmly where it was. There was only one that stood out to her, larger than life, a familiar anger and control. There were shouts and jeers and the aggressive banging of makeshift weapons coming from the large crowd up ahead and a deep commanding voice being amplified over it all. "Citizens, desist now and return to your homes or you will be considered involved in a riot. The penalty is ten years in the isocubes." She'd know that voice anywhere and the thought made her smile.

Sure enough, she pulled up alongside another two judges, and then she saw the owner of the voice, and that anger and control, in the middle of the chaos, kicking a crazed rioter away as he strode backwards towards the row of bikes, dragging a pair of limp judges, with each hand fisted into their collars.

She could feel the reactions of her fellow judges too, a young rookie, barely out of the academy was almost giddy with hero worship, the older exuding a mix of respect and jealousy. Anderson leapt off her bike and drew her LawGiver stepping in to flank Dredd as he got their colleagues to safety. It was so typical of the man, to stride right into a riot without waiting for backup, thinking nothing of taking on a hundred angry people by himself. As a group, they fell into a seamless pattern, no need for words. Anderson took Dredd's right as the furthest judge from her took his left. The one between them raced forward and took one of the unconscious judges from him. With his load lightened considerably, Dredd was able to run and the group made a tactical retreat to behind a small wall. "Two judges down! Medics to my GPS." Dredd growled into his comm. "And get us a riot squad."

They got the two injured judges over the small wall and were then set upon by the baying crowd. Dredd dropped the man he was carrying, tucking his body into the wall to offer as much protection as possible, and then stood over him, fighting off the people around them with fists and elbows, his body becoming a solid immovable object battling away the hits with ease. Anderson and the younger of the other judges stood either side of him while the older judge, a gruff man she seemed to remember was called De Souza, crouched over the two unconscious judges administering crude first aid.

"Fancy seeing you here." Anderson said with a smile to her old mentor as they stood over the downed judges. It had been a while since she had seen him, although their contact since Peach Trees had always been sporadic at best. Last she'd heard he'd taken a solo mission in the Cursed Earth, she hadn't known he was back.

Dredd gave her a glance, the slight tilt of his head the only indication that he was acknowledging her at all, he didn't reply. Of course not, she rolled her eyes, the man didn't do small talk at the best of times. He put his arm up to shield his face just as a Molotov cocktail sailed through the air at him. He batted it away, causing it to shatter and spray flaming alcohol and hot glass shards everywhere. His arm was engulfed in flame for a second but it died out against the thick leather, causing no harm. He scanned the crowd to see who had thrown it, but it was someone far back in the crush of people. He'd be unable to get there without abandoning his current post. He grabbed a gas grenade from his belt, pulled the pin with his teeth and threw it into the mob. "Respirators." He growled to the others, and they all scrambled to get their gas masks fitted. As Dredd had his hands full momentarily as he fit the mask, someone came running out of the crowd wielding a nasty looking pool cue that had been filed to a point and tipped in metal. He was aiming it right for Dredd's torso, until Anderson fired her LawGiver, taking him down with a stun. Dredd didn't thank her, she knew better than to expect him to, but there was the barest nod of appreciation instead.

"We need to get out of here." De Souza yelled over the din. "If I can get them alert enough to hang on, we'll get them on the LawMasters and retreat. Let the riot squads handle it."

Dredd's usual frown deepened even further, Anderson could feel the waves of disappointment reel off him at the thought of a retreat, but she knew he hadn't survived as a judge this long by taking unnecessary risks. "I agree." He said curtly, firing stun shots into the crowd. She hated the idea of retreating too, but there were just too many of them and the gas grenade hadn't seemed to cause any of them to slow. They could only stun so many at a time, unless things changed in their favour, the time to use lethal force was fast approaching, but that was a tough call to make under the circumstances.

"What do you think Rookie?" Dredd asked as he shoved a group, causing them to fall backwards into the crowd. It did little to stop the surge of people as they trampled over their fellow rioters to get to the small group of judges. Anderson kicked out at one, and again, they spilled back into the group but it wasn't long before others took their place.

Anderson ignored being called a rookie. She'd actually been a judge for four years now, longer than the young starry eyed man on his left, and a lot longer than most judges managed to survive. The nickname had annoyed her at first, until she'd mentioned it to Judge Hershey in passing. The older woman had smiled at her and pointed out it was the closest thing Dredd would get to affection. There was a handful of judges he called 'rookie' and they were all the ones he'd trained, and if you'd been considered good enough for Judge Dredd to pass you, then you'd earned your place.

"It's hard to tell with my helmet on Sir, but I'd suggest that to use lethal force will only incite them to further violence. Our best tactic would be to get out and wait for the riot van."

Dredd grunted in agreement. But it appeared the young judge, Grazinski, on the other side of him either hear or didn't agree. A man reached for the young judge with both hands. Before Dredd and Anderson could help push the assailant back, the young judge drew his LawGiver and fired. Anderson had assumed he'd been set on stun, and maybe the young man did too because he looked surprised as a hot shot burst from the muzzle and hit the man almost point blank in the chest. The man screamed as he fell back into the crowd with a spray of blood. There was a beat as everyone saw what what happened, and then the crowd surged.

"Drokk!" Grazinski shouted as he was grabbed by a dozen hands trying to drag him down. His LawGiver was yanked from his hand with a force that had to have broken some fingers and then he was pulled over the small wall they'd been defending and disappeared into the crowd. With a growl, Dredd jumped into the fray with him, punching, kicking and shoving to get to the younger judge who was rapidly getting dragged away.

"Step away or I will use lethal force!" Dredd shouted his warning, loud enough that there could be no one who could say they hadn't heard him. But the crowd carried on. Then, Dredd too was dragged down into the mass of angry people.


	2. Chapter 2

De Souza and Anderson exchanged looks. It was always difficult to read faces when all you could see was a thin lipped mouth and chin, but Anderson could feel his concern and inner conflict. "Where the drokk is our backup?"

Anderson resisted the urge to jump down after Dredd, looked down and saw that at least one of the other judges was starting to stir. Neither was in good shape, it was hard to see in the dim light but there was a lot of blood glistening over their uniforms. "Get them out of here!" Anderson said, planting her feet firmly on the wall, "standard!" She commanded her LawGiver and started firing as De Souza dragged the two judges to their feet.

She laid down cover fire while they dragged the injured judges, stumbling, as far as they could. The gunfire wasn't stopping them in the slightest, as some fell, others tripped over the bodies. There was a crack of gunfire from the crowd and a bullet ripped into her thigh but she barely noticed, judges were taught early on to force pain aside until they had the time to deal with it. In attempt to push back on the onslaught she switched to incendiary rounds and fired one shot. It hit the nearest person, a woman brandishing a plank of wood with nails in. It hit her and she went up in flames almost instantly, the chemical compound the bullet was made from spraying accelerant as it exploded on impact. The woman howled in pain and turned in panic, as she fell she grabbed another rioter and he too caught fire. It caused chaos in the crush of people, the fire spreading, the noises of pain were horrendous, but it still didn't slow them. Anderson was glad she'd kept her helmet on, it dulled the thoughts that would have been otherwise projected into her head.

Then, finally, two armoured personnel carriers rolled up and came to a halt just in front of the fleeing judges. The back doors of both vehicles swung open and a riot squad of judges leapt out of each, with their shields and longer visors on their helmets.

A female judge got out of the front passenger seat of the first vehicle and approached Anderson, De Souza and the two barely conscious judges. Anderson smiled when she realised it was Judge Hershey. The two women had never worked together but had met a few times in passing, Anderson knew that Hershey was the closest thing Dredd had to a friend so based on that fact alone she trusted her. "What the hell happened?" She asked, watching her troops form a barrier and wade into the fighting. A medic van turned up and Hershey gave De Souza a nod of the head, dismissing him to get the injured judges medical attention.

"We got the call to assist, when we got here they were already rioting and Dredd was pulling those guys out of the crowd. We tried holding them off but there's something not right about this. They're in a frenzy and it seems like more than just mob mentality, nothing is stopping them. Grazinski got pulled into them and Dredd went after him."

Hershey nodded her understanding and barked a few orders at her men. Anderson went into the back of the riot van and pulled out a long shield, fixing it to her left arm.

Hershey gave her a look, eyeing the blood seeping from the ragged hole in the thigh of her leathers. Anderson didn't need to be a mind reader to know what the older woman was thinking. "I'll get it checked when we get Dredd back."

She should have said Grazinski too, she realised. Of course she would get Grazinski back too, and of the pair of them Dredd was far more likely to be able to handle himself but somewhere along the way the gruff older lawman had gotten under her skin. The whole thing seemed ridiculous; he barely spoke, he barely allowed himself a sense of humour and she didn't even know what he looked like under that mask. But there was no getting away from the fact that he had made her the judge she was today. Not just because he had passed her, but because he had listened to her, respected her, pushed her into seeing what she was capable of after a dozen academy instructors had called her worthless. He'd known she was a mutant and yet rather than hate and fear her he'd accepted her as he would any other judge, and that meant more to her than she'd likely ever be able to tell him.

She joined the others as they pushed back, wading through the residents. They still showed no sign of hesitation, but they were no match for the reinforcements. They mowed down those in the way as they pushed towards the block. They were making steady progress and then she heard a voice in her head as clear as though it had been spoken aloud. 'Anderson!' She broke into a run.

She made it into the lobby of the mega-block, feeling sick at the louder noise of the crowds. She followed their gaze upwards and her mouth fell open in horror. There was a struggle on the second floor balcony and then she saw Grazinski pushed towards the railing. His helmet had been ripped off and there was blood in his short blonde hair. He had his hands tied behind his back and a rope around his neck. Then, before she could react, he was sailing over the balcony. The rope snapped taught and Grazinski's neck broke instantly, leaving him swinging limply in the air.

Moments later and their second victim was pushed to the edge, a taller man with dark scruffy hair, ruggedly handsome were it not for a long scar that ran from his hairline down the side of his face to his cheek. He wasn't what Anderson had imagined was under that helmet, but she'd recognise that chin anywhere. Anderson met his hazel eyes and he fixed her with a steely expression. Anderson watched helplessly as a dozen hands pushed at him, he fought back but there were just too many of them, they picked him up, over the balcony railing and he fell.

Anderson ran to him, getting there just as he got to the end of the rope. The fall didn't kill him, instead he swung wildly as he fought, his muscles tensed and standing out in his neck where the rope cut in and left him unable to breathe. He was too high up for Anderson to cut down but she wrapped her arms around his legs and lifted him up as high as she could to ease the pressure on his neck. He was heavy, made more so by the leather and ceramic plated armour he wore, but she told herself she could hold him up all day if it would save his life. The crowd were unhappy though, were baying for blood, and she had to hit and kick those away who wanted her gone. Gone or strung up alongside him.

Thankfully the riot team were only moments behind her, having got there just in time to see Dredd fall. They fought off her assailants and someone ran upstairs, cutting the rope that held him. Anderson felt huge relief as he fell into her arms and she collapsed under the weight. They both ended up on the cold dirty tiles, Anderson took a moment to revel in the feeling of her arms wrapped around his chest as he took in big gulping breaths of air. But in an instant she was up, loosening the rope round his neck and using a knife to cut the bonds that tied his hands.

Hershey crouched down beside them as Dredd struggled to draw air into his oxygen deprived lungs, resting heavily into Anderson's supporting arms. There was bruising starting to come up on his jaw and he held his left arm in close across his body, it was clear he'd taken a severe beating.

"Get him out of here." Hershey ordered. "We'll deal with the rest."

Anderson didn't need to be told twice, she hauled the larger judge to his feet and slung an arm round his waist to support him, pulling his uninjured arm over her shoulder. The bullet wound in her leg burned with the added weight but she ignored it and started to hobble towards the medics which had set up behind the riot vans. Beside her, Dredd stumbled along, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, but managing to anyway out of sheer determination.

Outside, the riot squad had already done their work, the crowd had scattered, a few more resilient fighters breaking off and continuing to do battle with the armoured lawmen and women, but most had seemed to disappear, like rats on a sinking ship. Anderson and Dredd reached the triage van and Anderson helped lower Dredd down to sit on the step into the back of the vehicle. The two judges he'd rescued were already on cots inside. She pulled her own helmet off and ran a hand through her sweaty hair.

Anderson took a long moment to inspect Dredd's face, the ever present frown was still there but the rest was unlike what she'd imagined. For a start she'd thought he'd be older, she'd certainly expected him uglier. The rumour had gone round the academy that the reason that Dredd was so adamant about keeping his helmet on was because he was as ugly as sin underneath, but even with the scar he was undeniably attractive. And that, was the reason, she realised. How could he keep up the facade of unfeeling and uncompromising lawman, able to strike fear into the heart of even the bravest of men, if they knew that underneath he hid good looks and soft hazel eyes?

"What?" He growled, clearly unhappy with the scrutiny. His voice was strained, his brow furrowed in barely concealed pain. It shook Anderson out of her thoughts and she started to help him unzip his leather armour, careful of his broken arm and any other injuries he might be hiding.

"Sorry," she grinned. "But as one of the privileged few to ever see your face, I thought it important to remember it." Her tone was teasing, she rightly assumed it was lost on the stoic man.

"Not what you expected?" He asked.

"Pleasantly surprised." She replied. She tugged his sweat soaked leathers from him and he bit back a groan as he pulled his arm free. It left him in a plain black tee shirt stretched over broad shoulders and a well-defined muscular chest. Anderson thought if he flexed it would rip, and then was immensely thankful that she was the mind-reader and not he.

She knew she was far from the only judge to allow herself the occasional sexual fantasy, hell, there were both male and female judges who fantasised about the man in front of her, but if he ever found out she'd be mortified. She'd never known anyone so rigidly adhere to the monastic code that they all were supposed to live by. Part of the reason she was mistrusted by the other judges was she knew just how many of them had broken those rules. A casual fucking is fine, they told themselves, a perfect stress release and the one pleasure left in this harsh world, just don't let the council know, and whatever you do don't make it about anything more than scratching an itch. As a psychic, not only did Anderson know who was sleeping with whom, she also knew who was kidding themselves that it had nothing to do with emotions.

A medic came to join them, a middle-aged woman with short cropped hair and stern features. Sterner features than Dredd, Anderson mused with a smile. She inspected Dredd's arm which was black and swollen from wrist to elbow and made him lift his shirt to display the deep bruising at his hip and lower back, whirring a handheld scanning device over his body to check for damage.

"Well," she assessed. "Your arm has multiple fractures and you'll be pissing blood for a week but we'll be able to fix you up good as new. I'll get you some pain relief and fit your arm in a plasti-cast then you'll be good to go home. The cast will need a week to set the bone, I'll sign you off on medical leave until then, then you come back into the clinic and I'll take it off. Nothing strenuous and certainly no work until next week."

Anderson grimaced at the diagnosis, she'd had experience of the plasti-cast before and it was unpleasant to say the least. On the outside it appeared to be a rather innocuous looking plastic casing, that moulded to fit the broken limb, but inside housed a series of electrodes inserted into the skin, that pinned all the pieces of shattered bone in place and stimulated new bone growth with a series of electrical pulses. The whole process ranged from itchy to downright painful, Anderson had worn one for two weeks when a perp had shattered her knee with an armour piercing round, and it had driven her to distraction the entire time. But she imagined the thing that would annoy Dredd most would be not being allowed to punch anything for a week.

"A whole week! That's gonna suck." She commiserated.

"Yeah." Dredd frowned. There was a beat as they both felt a little awkward. It was weird how, without the helmet, Dredd was a lot more human and that made her just as uncomfortable as it appeared to make him.

"Okay, well, take it easy Judge." She said, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze and then starting to walk away.

"Get that leg looked at!" He called after her. Anderson smiled, yep, this is as close as she'd ever hope to get to the man, and she was okay with that.


	3. Chapter 3

Anderson didn't even want to think about how late it was or how long she'd worked by the time she got home. She closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief, dumping her helmet on the table by the door and tugging her boots off, they were caked in mud and blood which she didn't want to track through the thin carpet. She picked them up and carried them to the bedroom where she dropped them into the decontamination closet. She pulled her jacket off wearily and then struggled with her pants until everything was being decontaminated and she was able to step into the shower.

The hot water felt so good on her battered body and she closed her eyes and sighed. It had been such a long week and had finished with one of the longest shifts. As she started to lather shampoo into her hair she felt like she was washing weeks worth of grime out. The water that swirled down the drain was gritty and tinged with pink. The bullet wound had been stapled together and it pulled uncomfortably on her thigh, although the meds she'd been given by the medics had taken the edge off.

She stayed under the water almost until it ran cold, when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. She groaned, it was the middle of the night and no one ever visited her anyway. When the knocking continued she hastily threw on a vest and shorts and went to answer the door, tousling her blonde hair dry as she crossed the small apartment bare footed and still dripping shower water. She sensed the urgency of the man behind it, and it made her tired fingers fumble as she unbolted the strong metal door.

Dredd pushed the door aside as she stepped back to allow him entry, half dressed, the way she'd left him, in that tight black tee shirt and uniform leather pants, his left arm encased in a plasti-cast up to the elbow, helmetless but with his face obscured by shadow.

He didn't say anything but grabbed her, his hands clasping her bare biceps as he drew her into him and kissed her roughly. She was stunned by the action, the feel of his soft lips and scratchy stubble against her skin, the way he sucked on her lower lip and pushed for entry to her mouth with his hot tongue. She staggered backward but he went with her until she had her back pressed up against the wall and he was pinning her there, his knee resting firmly between her thighs, the leather grinding against her bare skin.

She pulled out of the hungry kiss with a gasp, "What are you doing?" This was so unlike him she didn't know where to begin.

"I want you." He growled, grinding his leg into her groin, igniting a warmth there that she'd always tried hard to ignore.

"We can't. What about the code? This isn't like you?" The door had been left wide open, anyone walking down the corridor would be able to see them, she realised with embarrassment.

"Fuck the code. I almost died today, again. How long do I have to keep denying myself what I really want?" And as his lips fell upon her again his rough calloused hand slipped over her hip and beneath the waistband of her shorts. His fingers teased at the elastic at first, the pad of his thumb finding the scar on her stomach, the bullet wound he'd patched up for her at Peach Trees. She had other scars now, but none would be quite so memorable as that. Unsure what to do with her own hands, she placed them on his shoulders, telling herself it was to push him away but she felt the muscles rippling beneath them, tensed with need and as his fingers dipped lower she found herself pulling him in closer to her instead.

His fingers slipped down, tracing the line of the top of her thigh until they brushed lightly across her tight bundle of nerves between her legs. Anderson let out a groan as he started to stroke her. She could feel a heat pooling in her, her breathing deepened and she could feel Dredd's breathing deepen too, his chest heaving with need. When his fingers slipped inside her, first one, then joined by a second, she was slick with her own wetness. He pulled his fingers out and swirled the sticky fluid around her clit, before plunging his fingers back in again, stroking at her pussy walls.

With his other hand he tugged down her shorts and broke the kiss long enough to pull her vest over her head. She hadn't had time to put on underwear, so now she was stood naked, pushed against the wall with a man's fingers inside her. She thought about this scenario a lot, had even played with herself to it on lonely nights when she couldn't sleep, but she was also a judge, had been taught since she was eight years old the importance of not giving in to her carnal urges and thus far had never strayed from that. She felt exposed and uncomfortable, she really wished he'd closed the door.

In a moment of panic she moved to push him away. He stepped back to look at her but didn't move his hand from where it gently teased, by turns stroking her clit and dipping into her hot pussy, smearing her juices over the sensitive nerves. She found herself needing to even the odds, so she tugged at his tee shirt, pulling it over his head and exposing a muscled torso, littered with scars of his own. He had to stop touching her to get the shirt off and she found the brief lack of contact gave her a pang of frustration, so that when his fingers returned she moaned again.

With his other hand he was working the belt on his leather pants, but with his hand in the cast he was struggling. Her hands moved to his belt and tugged it open. Her hand felt clumsy and inexperienced on the zip but she got it open and slipped his pants and boxers off his hips, exposing his throbbing member, the leather catching against his thighs. She gasped, it was big and she suddenly worried it would be too big for her, but as he continued to work her slick pussy with his hand, she found she didn't care. She touched it tentatively, running a finger along the head and feeling it twitch beneath her touch, leaking with precum.

Suddenly he grabbed her, with both hands on her hips and lifted her into the air with an effortless strength, settling her against his chest. Her clit ground against his abs with a burning need and she could feel him twitching at her entrance. Slowly, careful of his size, he sank her down onto his cock until he was all the way in, stretching her to his girth, they both let out moans of need.

He held her there, away from the wall now, keeping her in place with his superior strength as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders. Then ever so slowly he began to move her, sliding her up and down on his thick shaft. Her breathing hitched and her legs turned to jelly as the heat inside her built. He kept her wrapped around his cock as he moved, first closing the door with a slam and then striding into her small bedroom.

He lifted her off then and threw her onto the bed. As she bounced into the mattress he divested himself of the last of his clothes and then knelt on the end of the bed. He caught her by her ankles and dragged her towards him until he had his head between her legs, forcing her thighs apart with his hands. He licked, a long slow lap between her legs and as the tip of his tongue reached her clit he sucked it causing her to scream.

Her breathing got more rapid as he continued to lick and suck at her clit, adding fingers to work her pussy, by turns fast and hard with agonisingly slow. She closed her eyes and lay back, her body trembling and the heat building in a way she'd never managed to do for herself. When she came it was like a wave crashing over her, she bucked violently and let out a moan, the force of the feeling making her light headed and yet still he continued sucking and teasing, lapping up her juices until she was almost hysterical with the overwhelming sensation. He looked up at her, her cum glistening on his mouth in the dim light and their eyes met before he climbed his way onto the bed and plunged himself inside her.

She gasped as Dredd filled her with himself. Gone was the gentleness he'd shown earlier, now he was aggressive with his own need, pinning her hands above her head with one hand as he kneaded a breast with the other, taking a teat in his mouth and sucking as he found his rhythm and moved inside her. He was so big, and she was so inexperienced, that pain flared every time he slammed inside her, making her think that he'd be capable of ripping her in two with just his cock. But alongside the pain was a building pleasure and she found her breath hitching and the pressure building as she reached another orgasm. He grabbed a leg and slung it over his shoulder, changing the angle and managing to penetrate even further, hitting that sweet spot deep inside her with every move.

This time, as her body bucked and muscles clenched she could feel her pussy tighten around his cock, he let out a groan of his own and gave a few more thrusts before his body tensed and he let out a shuddering breath, thick, hot liquid spurting into her pussy. He lay on top of her, completely drained, propping himself up on his forearms to prevent himself from crushing her. She could feel his chest pressed against her bare breasts, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.

She felt his emotions wash over her, a sense of calmness and contentedness that she'd never associated with the surly judge before. She looked into his eyes and traced a finger down the scar on his face looking into the projections from his mind, needing to know what had brought such a change in the man. But when she sensed it she recoiled in horror, "You're not Dredd are you?" As soon as the words left her mouth, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed heavily on top of her.

Suddenly frantic, she scrambled out from under him and raced to the other room to hastily retrieve her vest and shorts. She pulled them on, her legs and hands shaking, and not just because of the exertion. "Shit!" She cursed to herself, how had she not seen it before? She asked herself, already knowing the answer. Because you wanted so damn much for it to be true.

She considered her options, her fight or flight reflexes dominating, but she knew there was more to it than that. Tentatively she sought out his mind, knowing he wouldn't be happy if he found out she was reading it. This time, although he was buried deeper, a consequence of the unconsciousness, she found who she was looking for, that familiar anger combined with a fight for his usual control. Certain Dredd was himself now she pushed him into the recovery position and covered him with a blanket. Satisfied that he was breathing properly she went to shower again to wash the stickiness from between her thighs. When she was clean she got dressed again, managing to find underwear as well this time, and sat perched on the corner of her bed, her back against the headboard while she watched the man worriedly for any sign of him coming to.


	4. Chapter 4

She'd fallen into a light doze, when she was woken up by a shifting on the other side of the bed. It had really just been a tensing up, as Dredd was in the exact position she'd left him, but she knew it meant he was awake and probably trying to figure out what to do next.

"Are you really you this time?" She asked him carefully, feeling the panic roll off him. She was sure it was him now, but asking him would let him know she knew what had happened.

"Yeah." He said, quietly, still not having moved from the recovery position. He didn't want to look at her, she realised, so she got off the bed and went round to his side, crouching down beside him so that their eyes were level. She'd never seen anyone look so haunted, she certainly hadn't ever expected to see that look from him.

"What do you remember?" She asked gently.

He closed his eyes momentarily, as though he was trying to remember. She didn't push, knowing he wasn't a talker at the best of times. Eventually he looked at her again, "I went after Grazinski. The crowd pulled me down and dragged me into the block. They were strange, there was no fear from anyone, not even fear of pain. And there was no chanting, no slogans, it's almost as if they didn't know why they were rioting. They got me onto the second floor, hit and kicked me a few times, someone had a tire iron... and then one of them pulled my helmet off and just held his hand to my head, just for an instant. I didn't think much of it, I thought he was trying to hold me still while they tied me, but now I think he did something. A minute later and I'd been thrown over the balcony, I forgot about it. I remember you getting me down, the medic truck, but then it started to get weird. I was still there but I wasn't in control anymore, I tried to stop it but I couldn't. I think that creep was a mutant."

Anderson nodded. "I think you're right, a strong one."

"Drokk, Anderson! I'm sorry. I'll turn myself in to the council. Have them carry out their judgement on me." He sat up, clutching the blanket around his waist to protect his modesty. Anderson's eyes roved over the bruising that had been inflicted upon him just hours before. She put a hand on his knee, stopping him from going anywhere.

"Judgement for what? The monastic code is..."

But he interrupted her, "Anderson I raped you!"

She sighed and shook her head, sitting on the bed beside him, close enough for their shoulders to touch, wanting to prove to him that she wasn't afraid of him. "You didn't rape me."

"I forced myself on you, I was rough, did I hurt you?"

"No." She smiled, at him. "And you didn't force yourself on me."

"Whether you fought me off or not, you would not have agreed to sex had you been aware of the circumstances. That's still assault."

Anderson shook her head, "You're right. But it wasn't you. I never would have let you had I known, but that's got a lot more to do with knowing you wouldn't want to. If I've been raped it was by him, and so have you, and I'd argue in a way a lot worse than me."

He fell silent at that, so she pushed on. "You are not to blame in this. There is nothing to receive judgement for. We are going to find the son of a bitch that did this to you, and we are going to bring him to justice. But first you need some sleep."

She picked up his tee shirt and boxers and handed to him. He pulled them on hurriedly while she averted her eyes. He stood to move into the other room, eyeing the couch that could be seen just on the other side of the bedroom door but Anderson pulled back the sheets and patted the bed. "Come on. This is big enough for the two of us and you're too tired to argue." She was right, he was too tired. Wearily he got himself into the bed and she pulled the covers up over him, feeling oddly protective of him as she did. She got into bed on the other side and snuggled down into the pillow. She closed her eyes but could still feel him lying there, stiff with uncomfortableness, so she sought out his hand and clasped it in hers. Slowly she felt him relax and she allowed herself to drift off to sleep.

When Anderson awoke she was in bed alone. She'd expected as much. She rolled over and ran her hands over her face, trying to compartmentalise everything that had happened the night before. But then a noise in the other room had her sitting bolt upright. She rushed to the bedroom door and stepped out into the living space. Her apartment wasn't big, just a sofa in front of a holo screen and a seldom used kitchenette. She did not expect to see Dredd stood in her kitchen holding her coffee pot and staring down at the mug that had just smashed all over the floor at his feet.

"Well at least you didn't waste any precious caffeine." She smiled leaning against the door frame and delighting at watching Dredd fail at domestication.

He held up his left arm in his cast and waved it at her in explanation. "Sorry." He said gruffly.

"That's alright." She found a dustpan and swept up while he found two more mugs and did a better job of pouring this time, adding sugar to both cups and stirring it around. "Sorry there's nothing to eat."

Dredd just shrugged and handed her a mug. Anderson rolled her eyes, so we're back to that are we? He followed her to the sofa though and perched on the edge, as far from her as was possible. Anderson sat facing him and drew her legs up as she took a sip of the strong hot beverage.

She studied him as he stared down at the mug in his hands, hunched forward with his arms resting on his knees. He'd put his leather trousers back on, clearly wanting to be as dressed as possible, although his bare feet stuck out of the thick leather. He was missing a toe nail on his left foot and the two next to it were black and his ankle was bandaged, more signs of the battering he'd taken the night before. There was deep bruising that had come up on his jaw and around his neck, skin rubbed raw by the rope that had nearly ended his life.

"How are you feeling?" Anderson asked.

"I need to find him." Dredd growled back. It sounded like a deflection of the question, but Anderson knew it was a real answer. The need to find the man who'd hijacked his body the night before was an emotion in that it was an overwhelming feeling. Anderson didn't need to read his mind to know he could think of nothing else.

"What you need is a shower." She replied, wrinkling her nose. "I'll help you find him, but if you don't follow doctors orders your arm won't heal properly."

"He almost started a block war last night. It can't wait."

Anderson sighed, she knew she wasn't going to win this, even though she doubted he could get his jacket on over the cast. She got up and found him a spare towel in the closet. "Leave your clothes in my room and I'll get them clean." She said, handing him the towel. He nodded his thanks, drained his mug and shuffled into her room to go shower.

She threw his clothes into decontamination and then sat and savoured the rest of her coffee listening to the shower run in the other room while she contemplated the task at hand. Whoever this guy was, to take over a mind, any mind, let alone one as closed off as Dredd's, meant he had to be powerful. Even more than that, the control had held at long distance and for a number of hours. She doubted it was going to be as easy as striding in and sentencing him to the cubes. Then she heard a "Drokk!" and a thud that had her racing into the bathroom.

She barged in without knocking and found Dredd sprawled on the floor in the shower cubicle. He was stubbornly trying to push against the wall to get himself back to his feet but his arms were shaking and he couldn't use his broken left arm.

"What happened?" Anderson asked, pulling the shower door open and crouching down with him. When he looked up at her his eyes were hazy and unfocused.

"I blacked out." He admitted.

"That's why you smashed the coffee mug too wasn't it?"

"He's still in here." He muttered, thumping his head back hard against the tiles, screwing his eyes shut.

Worried now, Anderson reached up to turn the water off but he snatched her hand away, she met his gaze and she knew she wasn't looking at Dredd anymore, he was gripping her wrist too tight and his eyes burned with a cold intensity.

"What do you want?" She asked the thing that was in her friend. His eyes flicked down to his crotch where Anderson could see his erection getting hard, he looked back up again with an evil grin on his face.

"It's going to be even more fun now you're not throwing yourself at him." He snarled, pulling her towards him.

Anderson kicked him in the solar plexus and wrenched her wrist from his grip, scurrying back out of the shower. She got to her feet and started to run but he grabbed her ankle and pulled, sending her crashing face first to the floor, knocking the wind from her. He crawled up her body, snagging a fist into her hair and slamming her head down on the tile, before flipping her onto her back, straddling her, pinning her arms to her sides with his legs.

She bucked, trying to flip him off but he was heavy and held his ground. He laughed, a deep-throated cackle that made her blood run cold. "Take it easy, no need to rush. I know how much you were begging for it last night you little whore. I made you love it, and now you can't stop thinking about it can you? You should be thanking me, he never would have fucked you without my help. Not that he hasn't thought about it, but he's always played the perfect little soldier. He knows that once he starts breaking the rules, once he lets the monster off the chain, then there'll be no stopping him." He leaned over and gave her a long wet lick up the side of her face. She closed her eyes, ignored the sensation and concentrated.

Suddenly she was no longer pinned to the floor of her bathroom but stood in a large room she recognised as the academy dojo. Across from her, Dredd was in full uniform, including his helmet, chained to the wall in an X position by thick metal manacles. Blood was seeping out of deep knife wounds all over his body, running over the black leather and pooling on the mat beneath his feet. She moved to free him but suddenly a man appeared blocking her path. He was tall, as tall as Dredd but even bigger built. He was shirtless to showcase rippling muscles but his face was in constant shadow, no matter how she moved she couldn't see his face.

He stood in a boxer's ready stance, drew back his fist and then punched her in the face, causing her head to snap back. Anderson spat blood on the floor and drew her fists up, if he wanted to play then she'd play. In a blink of an eye she switched her uniform for a sports bra and black loose fitting trousers, fists wrapped in tape, standard sparring attire at the academy. If they were going toe to toe in a dojo, she figured she may as well look the part. It wouldn't make her faster or more agile, as it was a mental projection she would be as fast as she could imagine herself to be, but it helped to centre her, just like she was sure that consciously or not, Dredd had imagined himself in uniform to help protect himself.

She circled around the shadowy man, making sure she was light on her feet, feinting a few jabs. She used a front kick which he blocked easily but he swept her leg to the side offering her the chance to put her foot down and follow up with an unexpected roundhouse with the other leg. Her roundhouse caught him in the chest and propelled him backwards.

He recovered quickly and came at her harder, putting huge amounts of force into each blow. But while his fighting technique relied on a combination of speed and strength it was routed in real world mechanics. Anderson dodged each blow easily, moving faster than humanly possible to do so, and landing blows back on him with equal intensity. It was odd, for such a powerful psychic she expected more imagination. But then she saw another figure, a pale, thin man with a balding head stood in the corner of the room, watching with a quiet intensity.

She turned her attention to the balding man, dodging the next blow by the shadowy man and racing to the corner of the room. She threw a punch at the balding man, but as she did he disappeared, dematerialising on the other side of the room. Two could play at that game, she decided and imagined herself to the other side of the room with him. This time the balding man let her punch him. Her fist went straight through him. His image shimmered in front of her and he smiled.

Suddenly, the huge shadowy man grabbed her from behind. She used the wall in front of her to run up it and twist out of his grip, her body flipping straight over his head to land on the mat behind him. He turned and snarled and attacked again. Anderson returned with a side kick/roundhouse combo and then used the wall once again, running up it and using it to push off and land a double footed kick to his face.

The shadowy man spat blood and grinned, attacking wildly again. He was inexperienced in this, Anderson knew, he could only fight according to his reality, she should be quite rightly kicking his ass, but the problem was his ego. She doubted that he knew he was doing it but it appeared he was unable to conceive of the idea that she could hurt him, and as a result all her hits did little damage.

He continued his onslaught and with her sudden doubts about success, his hits were starting to land. But then she felt a presence behind the shadowy man and suddenly two great manacled hands landed either side of his head and twisted. The shadowy man fell back to the floor, neck snapped and Anderson looked up at the inscrutable mask of Dredd who had torn himself from the wall, leaving giant holes in the concrete where the manacles had been attached. Suddenly, with a jolt, she was back on her bathroom floor and Dredd was back to being naked and scrambling away from her.

"Shit! Are you okay?" She asked, sitting up and looking at Dredd who had crawled back into the shower cubicle and was staring at his hand that was covered in the blood that was pouring from his nose. He looked up at her but didn't answer, clearly he wasn't sure. He stood up on unsteady legs and shut the water off, taking the towel the young woman offered him and wrapping it around his waist.

"The nosebleeds happen sometimes. You had a lot of people in your head. It'd be enough to give anyone an aneurysm."

Dredd grunted, clearly unimpressed with the explanation.

"The bald guy was the one who touched you right?" She continued, "he was the one who knew what he was doing, psychically speaking. But he didn't seem to hold any animosity towards you. It's like he's acting as a conduit for the other guy. The other guy wasn't a psychic at all but he's the one with all the anger. I couldn't see his face, could you?"

Dredd wiped the slowing trickle of blood from his face with the back of his hand and looked in the steamed up mirror. "I didn't have to. He's my brother."


	5. Chapter 5

"I didn't even know he had a brother!" Anderson confessed over the coffee she was cradling, eyeing the closed pizza box on the table, contents rapidly cooling inside.

"Not surprising," Judge Barbara Hershey was sat on her couch, looking exhausted and hugging her coffee to her like a lifeline. She'd worked all night and then received Anderson's worried call almost as soon as she'd climbed into bed. "The whole Rico Dredd thing was a huge drokk-up. It called into question the whole cloning program, set them back years while they tried to figure out how a clone of the great Judge Fargo could turn. So the higher ups don't like you mentioning it. I guess the real reason you haven't heard though is out of the respect everyone has for Joe. It was hard on him."

"This is going to be hard on him too." Anderson muttered, glancing towards her bedroom door, behind which a worn out Dredd was sleeping off the migraine that came with three intruders vying for space in your head. Anderson had suffered terribly with migraines when she'd first started exploring her abilities, although as she learned to control it, she learned to control them too. Now she could dip in and out of people's minds without a worry, but the fight inside Dredd's mind had left her with an aching pain behind the eyeballs too.

"You're right. He loved his brother, fiercely. Never really got over his betrayal. The council had Joe arrest him, they said to prove his loyalty, and Rico nearly killed him. He should be doing hard labour on Titan. I have no idea how he got back here." Hershey said the words with vehemence. "Personally I think he got off too lightly."

Anderson smiled. "You really care about him don't you?"

Hershey smiled wistfully, "He wasn't always this way you know, so closed off and angry all the time. It was like Rico took away his ability to trust anyone."

"He trusts you." Anderson pointed out. A thought then came to her, "Did you and he ever... you know...?" She drifted off, unsure how to ask the older judge such a personal question, especially when the answer could breach regulations.

To her relief, Hershey laughed. "Me and Joe? Hell no! We grew up in the academy together. He's always been like a brother to me."

"And she's always what I imagine an irritating gossipy sister would be like." A deep voice said from the door. Both women turned around and saw him leaning against the door frame.

"Joe, you've never had an imagination." Hershey laughed. "I'm glad you're up, I wanted to go ahead and start eating but Anderson made me wait."

"How are you feeling?" Anderson asked. Seeing there wouldn't be enough space on her tiny two-seater couch, she moved to sit cross legged on the floor. Dredd looked about to protest but sat down wearily in her vacated spot.

"You sure I didn't kill him?" He asked, again. It was a conversation they'd had already when they'd first come out of the shared vision.

"Fairly sure. I mean it's possible, but I think The Conduit is better than that. He would have pulled Rico's mind out before that happened." She saw Dredd bristle at the mention of his brother's name. His mouth set in his usual frown, but his eyes were quite expressive. No wonder he hid them all the time, Anderson thought. "He shouldn't be in your mind anymore though."

Dredd nodded, "I can't feel him, not like I could before." The way he said it suggested a mixture of relief and disappointment. "How come you didn't notice?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure. But I think it's because you're twins. Not only that, but clone twins. You feel the same, or almost. And I don't read my friends minds, not unless I have to."

"Good to know." Dredd growled.

"How'd he get out? And what does he want?" Hershey asked. "If he was going to kill you, there are easier ways."

"I don't know, it doesn't make sense yet. But he always blamed the justice system. Hated the fact we were forced into being judges, told what to do, what to think. He thought he was better than that. Rico may blame me for being sent to Titan but he blames the council more."

"I'm not sure he was trying to kill you." Anderson suggested. "I think he got The Conduit to start that riot to draw you out, knowing you'd be there. Then they beat you, nearly killed you, to make you angry about being treated that way. Then he brought you back here, made you break the rules to..."

"To show me what I've been missing." Dredd finished for her, they exchanged guilty glances before averting their gazes in unison.

"You think he's trying to turn you?" Hershey asked.

"Or at least trying to play with my head." Dredd admitted, although he would never go so far as to say whether it was working.

"But he hung you. You could've died then, and that would be the end of his elaborate plan."

"I think he was betting on it taking more than that." Anderson said. "When I fought him, in Dredd's mind, I should have been able to beat him easily, all his moves were based on the real world. Most untrained people struggle with the concept that if you can imagine it, you can do it. But he's got one of the biggest egos I've ever seen and he genuinely believed I'd be unable to hurt him, so I couldn't. He probably thinks he'd survive a hanging, so it makes sense he'd think our Dredd would too." She could feel Dredd bristling at the possessive attached to his name, but damn it was getting complicated, he'd flared with equal anger at her use of the name Rico, and she sure as hell wasn't just going to switch to calling him Joe without permission, not after what had happened last night.

Last night was still playing on her mind, a lot. Every time she looked at him she was reminded of the hunger that had been in those eyes, the feel of those hard muscles rippling beneath her hand, and his tongue, oh god, the things he'd done with his tongue! Whether Rico had succeeded in messing with his brothers mind had yet to be seen, but he'd definitely managed to mess with hers.

Hershey opened the pizza box on the table and the three of them grabbed a slice each. All three were ravenous and they ate hungrily in silence, each mulling over what had been said and the implications. They were halfway through the giant pizza when a trio of simultaneous beeps could be heard, from Hershey's bag, the pocket of Dredd's pants and from the bedside table in the other room where Anderson had left her personal comm.

Hershey fished her comm device out of her bag, just as Dredd awkwardly worked his out of the tight leather, using his right hand to get to his left pocket was awkward but his left hand was almost useless and undoubtedly painful.

"What is it?" Anderson asked, knowing the same message would likely be awaiting her on her own comm.

"They're calling us all in, a large group of protesters have amassed outside the Hall of Justice. They need assistance with containment."

"Dredd, they blanket send these messages to everyone, you're still on sick leave. Come on, I'll give you a ride home on my way in."

He shook his head, "No, if this is Rico's doing then I need to be there. I could be the only one who can stop him."

The two women exchanged concerned looks but both knew that he was right.

"Give me a minute to change and we'll go together." Anderson put the TV on a news channel for the other two judges and dashed into the bedroom. She got dressed quickly and came out a moment later as she finished zipping up the armoured vest that finished the uniform. She stopped in her tracks, Dredd and Hershey were frozen in place as they all watched the news footage.

The pictures were aerial shots from a news helicopter circling over the towering Halls of Justice. There were huge crowds below it, spreading out to all the surrounding streets, a couple of cars and a shop had been set on fire and were chucking up thick black smoke into the atmosphere, obscuring the view of the camera. Stood as a barrier between the crowd and the Halls was a thin line of Judges. The crowd surged at them and it was clear the Judges were doing all they could to keep them at bay. As they watched, a Judge was dragged into the sea of angry people, others went in to rescue them but were beaten back and in an instant the Judge was lost from view. The commentator was rattling on in an excitable voice, "we have already reported the deaths of two judges and now a third has been dragged into the crowd as we watch!" He sounded a little too happy at the news.

"Let's go!" Dredd growled, turning the offensive news reporter off.

As they strode down to the basement parking lot, they came across other judges who were residents of the block, all gearing up to move out. They nodded their greetings to both Anderson and Hershey but no one seemed to recognise Dredd without his helmet on. Dredd looked as though he wanted it kept that way.

Anderson tried not to feel a pang of jealousy as Dredd got onto the back of Hershey's LawMaster rather than her own. It was obvious he would choose the other woman, they'd known each other longer and hadn't been involved in an awkward sexual encounter the night before. She really wanted to know the stern judge's thoughts about what had happened and she was tempted to read his mind to find out, but she meant what she said about not reading the minds of her friends, and the poor man had already been through enough.

Anderson lead the way through the midday traffic as they headed to Sector 1 where the Halls of Justice were situated. Sector 1 was the centre of the city and a far cry from the slums and megablocks of 13 where she and Dredd patrolled. It was quite a long drive, even racing through traffic on a LawMaster and as a result she didn't go to the Halls unless she had to. Some judges resolutely went in on a regular basis to do all their paperwork, while still work, it was really most judges only opportunity to be social with others, trading banter and insults as they sat at computer terminals and caught up with all the red tape the job entailed. But Sector 13 was far enough away that Anderson had taken a leaf out of Dredd's book and had a secure connection installed at home. Antisocial it may be, but she found she'd rather write her reports dressed in her pyjamas on her sofa with a cup of synth-coffee. As a result she really only came to the Halls of Justice when she was in trouble, which, she hated to admit, happened more frequently than she'd like.

As they got nearer, the streets became increasingly busy. The air was thick with deep seated rage emanating from everyone they passed. It felt the same as the night before, a huge, hot aura surrounding each person, but with none of the focus that anger usually produced. They were angry without knowing what they were angry about. It was like the night before, but how powerful did one psychic have to be to control that many people?

She privately commed Hershey as Dredd had lost his wrist comm, "The Conduit is here," she told them. "There's no way he'd be able to control all these people otherwise."

"Yeah." Dredd affirmed in his usual laconic style, his voice faint over the sounds of the road and from being too far away from the microphone.

"Be careful, I think our helmets are blocking his influence, but you shouldn't get too close to him."

"Yeah."

Anderson shook her head at the understated response. The man's inability to construct complete sentences amused her at times, but she'd learned to read the inflections in that one word. That one syllable conveyed the gravity of the situation, the agreement with her statement but also the acceptance that he'd probably ignore that advice if there was a chance to end this.


	6. Chapter 6

The nearer they got, the crowds got thicker and they had to slow down to get through. The angry mob noticed the judges and started hurling things. A lump of concrete was thrown at Anderson, hitting the front wheel of her bike with some force, and she had to fight the steering to keep it from wiping out. It was one of the most daunting rides Anderson had ever experienced and by the time they got to their destination she was gripping the handlebars hard enough for her knuckles to start to cramp.

There were judges posted on the underground parking lot and they let them through, beating back the crowds who tried to follow them in as the barriers opened. They parked up and Anderson slid off the seat of her heavy machine.

"I'm going to get a replacement uniform." Dredd informed the two women. "See you on the battlefield." He said with a smirk that made his eyes twinkle. She'd seen that smirk before, but having never seen his eyes before she hadn't realised how much he actually enjoyed his job. Was it the adrenaline rush or the violence itself? She supposed she was better off not knowing.

He left and the two women made their way up to street level. As they got to the huge lobby, they stepped into a sort of controlled chaos. Every available judge had been called in and it looked like most of them had made it in by now. Tecs were hauling racks of riot gear in and judges were grabbing shields and riot helmets with the fuller visor and kitting up rapidly before marching outside to a braying crowd. Medics were on standby too and a few were already treating a judge who had blood pouring from a deep gash in his head.

The noise from the crowd outside was deafening. Anderson and Hershey kitted up in silence and then strode to the reinforced doors. A senior judge was stood at the doorway and he noted their attendance on scene. "Report to Judge Grantham. Hold the line on the east side."

"Sir." The two judges replied in unison.

The judges had created a barricade around the towering building and had formed a line to beat back the crowds. It was the biggest crowd that Anderson had ever seen and she swallowed the lump in her throat that had formed at the sight.

The city rioted regularly, but it was rarely on such a scale as this. Usually it was the job of the council to debate and negotiate, make the decision to compromise, attack or hold the line until the anger burned out. As a street judge it was easy, stand shoulder to shoulder with your fellow judges and do as you're told. Anderson had a feeling this time the usual tactics wouldn't work. These people didn't know why they were rioting and she doubted they were capable of tiring, not until the Conduit who was controlling them did, and who knew how long that would take. It was possible that he'd just put the initial thought in their heads and the rest was done by feeding off each other's emotional state.

The pair of them reported to Judge Grantham, a short, red faced judge who looked at them with disdain as he ordered them up to take their places on the barricade. Anderson was used to disdain from other judges, she was short, young and a woman and often found she wasn't taken seriously. Rumours raced around the Halls of Justice quickly, and the rumour about her was that she was only a judge because they wanted her psy-abilities and that she wasn't cut out to do the job. The disturbing thing was that Anderson herself thought that might be at least partly true. The second half of that rumour was that Dredd had only passed her because she'd slept with him. Now that she actually had, it was likely to destroy her credibility even further. Hershey on the other hand was a well-respected veteran, had proven herself time and again and Anderson could feel her bristle with anger at the male judge's dismissive attitude towards her.

They stood together on the barricade and held their shields up to take the battering that the rioters tried to inflict on them. Anderson scanned the crowd but it was hard to see the man she was looking for in the sea of angry faces.

Then there was a familiar presence behind her and a hand touched her shoulder. Dredd moved to take up a position beside her and gave her a nod of acknowledgement. He was dressed in an old battered uniform, something he'd probably dragged out of the bottom of his locker. He'd run a slit up the inside seam of the left arm of his jacket to be able to get it on while accommodating the plasti-cast, and then had used medi-staples to crudely clamp it closed again around his bicep, the bits of metal running down as far as his elbow. As ingenious as the set up was, he had been unable to fit his riot shield to his left arm so he wore it on his right instead and had his baton held somewhat awkwardly in his left.

"See him?" He growled by Anderson's ear.

She shook her head. "Not yet. He's gotta be here though."

"I've spoken to the Judge's council." He explained. "We have the authority to break ranks and find this freak. They agree that stopping him is the only way to bring this to a close."

"Did you tell them about Rico?" Anderson asked.

Dredd shook his head. "Not yet." He admitted. "We need to take out this creep first, then I want to deal with Rico myself."

"I can't pick him out of the crowd like this." Anderson said, "will you make sure I don't get my head taken off?"

Dredd nodded and raised his shield to cover her as she took her helmet off. With her abilities unhindered she searched the crowd, sifting through the angry personalities to find the one she wanted.

"Drokk! Put that helmet back on!" Judge Grantham roared at her. "Do you want to get yourself killed, freak?"

Anderson rolled her eyes at the man. "It's affecting my ability to read the crowd." She explained.

"I don't care. You do as you're told on my squad." He snarled.

Anderson was used to being spoken to like that but she could feel Hershey getting angrier next to her. "Don't speak to her that way. She might be the only one who can get us out of this shit!"

"Shut your mouth bitch!" Grantham spat.

That was enough to tip Hershey over the edge as she snatched off his helmet and drove a fist into his face. Grantham roared in anger and threw a punch back but Dredd stepped in and blocked it by driving his shield between them.

"Stop it!" Anderson shouted, "he's making you do this."

Grantham looked about to attack again but Dredd stood in the middle holding them back from each other. "Take a fucking breath." He ordered, miraculously, they both did and Anderson felt the red haze fade a little from both of them.

"That's how he's doing it." Anderson explained. "He's taking people's anger and amplifying it to uncontrollable levels. It's how he's able to affect so many people at once." She looked back into the sea of people. "He's watching. I just got a sense of him. He's enjoying this."

"Let's get him." Dredd growled, about to launch himself off the barricade into the crowd.

Anderson placed a steadying hand on his chest a second to stall him. Even through the thick layers of leather and armour she could feel his muscles tensed with the anticipation of violence. "The closer we get to him, the more influence he'll have on us. He'll take your anger and try and use it against you." She warned.

Dredd nodded thoughtfully and Anderson could almost imagine those hazel eyes making contact with hers behind that visor. If she had been able to see them she knew what they'd say, 'I'll heed your warning but don't expect to try to stop me'.

"Okay then." She smiled at him before jamming her helmet onto her head and leaping into the sea of angry people.

She pushed her way through the swarm, with shield and baton held in front of her. She didn't need to glance over her shoulder to feel Dredd's presence looming just a step behind her. He was always larger than life, a solid mass of strength and unshakeable resolve, intimidating to most, but it made her feel safe. It was a paradox, the few times she'd worked with him since Peach Trees had been some of the most dangerous of her career, but there was nothing quite so comforting as knowing the person you were with had your back. She was certain that one day she would die doing this job, most judges did, but she knew that as long as Dredd was able, he'd drag her out of whatever hell she'd gotten herself into.

Anderson's arms ached as she used all her energy to push back the furious people who snatched and grabbed at her, pulling at her legs and arms, trying to pull her down and wrench her baton and shield from her. At one point she wasn't quick enough, a well timed kick to the side of her knee made her leg buckle and then she felt herself being pulled to the ground. But in an instant, Dredd was stood over her, swinging his riot shied at an angle, using its heavy edge to catch her assailants at head height. She watched as the corner of it caught a man's mouth and split it open, spraying blood and shattered teeth before it's trajectory caught the next man too and splattered his nose back into his face. A plasti-casted hand dug into the collar of her jacket and she was hauled back to her feet. There was no time for thanks, and his thoughts were clear, 'get up, push on.'

Trying to concentrate on the Conduit was like trying to listen to the sound of a trickling tap when stood next to a roaring waterfall. Ignoring the violence around her, she lifted her helmet up to get a better read, trusting Dredd to protect her as she did. They were close, she could tell, and as soon as the mental-dampening properties of her helmet were removed, everything became clear.

He was enjoying this, it was a game of cat and mouse to him and he was so assured that he would win. She could see his face projected into her mind's eye, his pale face split with a thin-lipped smirk. His surroundings came into sharp focus and she saw a basement maintenance room, full of banks of generators and electronic servers, enough to power a big building. Up ahead in her vision she could see one of the metal doors had been pulled off a large server and some sort of device had been fitted to it. The device had a small green light on it that blinked on and off. In the same instant that she realised what it was, she also realised where it was and staggered out of her vision in panic, colliding back into Dredd who steadied her. She whirled round to face him and blurted out her discovery, "There's a bomb in the basement!"

Anderson pressed the emergency button on her comm to bark out a warning but she was already too late. She gazed in horror as the shockwave hit, shaking the ground beneath their feet and blowing out the reinforced glass windows a fraction of a second before the deafening boom of the explosives. Anderson, Dredd and everyone around them were thrown off their feet as a huge surge of flame billowed out of the ground floor windows, engulfing everything in its path, including those judges stood on the barricade.

The scene became a swirling mess of fire and panic. The explosion had broken the Conduit's influence and now the crowd was just gripped with fear and the need to escape. As they scrambled to get away, Anderson curled in on herself and pulled her arms up to protect her head as people stumbled and tripped their way passed in a desperate stampede. She felt Dredd roll over to cover her smaller body with his own, tucking his injured arm safely between them and pulling their riot shields over them to offer protection against the surge of panic. She could feel his heart thudding against her back and feel his hot, ragged breath against her exposed neck.

As the crowd lessened, she felt him shift, and together they pushed themselves to their feet. Anderson's legs felt shaky and her throats felt raw, the atmosphere thick with a heavy smoke that stung her eyes and threatened to choke. Dredd did not appear to have the same trouble, although he must have been equally affected, he was already jogging back to the Halls of Justice, to the position on the barricade where they'd last left Hershey. Anderson's legs felt like they were made of wet spaghetti but she forced them to follow.

As they got nearer, the smell of burned flesh filled her nostrils. The barricade had served to protect the crowd from the flames and as a result there weren't many burned protesters, although a few had been trampled and left to their fate, Anderson had to step round a teenage boy who must have lost his footing, there was a boot print on his face and thick blood matted his hair, his eyes staring dead ahead, his skull crushed. A lot the judges that had been stood on the barricade had been thrown from it in the blast, protected by their armour and leather, they'd for the most part mobilised and were triaging their more injured colleagues who hadn't been so lucky.

Anderson scrambled onto the barricade and looked down over the other side. Hershey was slumped against the wall with Dredd knelt beside her. He'd taken her helmet off and was holding a gel burn-dressing to her face. Judge Grantham lay beside her, already dead. As she clambered down beside them she could hear Dredd speaking quietly through gritted teeth. "Come on, you're tougher than this. Just open your eyes." The female judge lay slumped, unresponsive. Anderson wanted to kneel beside him, offer some comfort but there were too many others that needed help. She gave his shoulder a squeeze, feeling the inadequacy of the gesture as she moved on to help someone else.


	7. Chapter 7

It was hours later by the time she sought him out. Medics had arrived en masse and had shipped the casualties to various hospitals throughout the nearby sectors, the Halls had been searched for further explosives and had been boarded up, evacuated until the engineers confirmed it was structurally still sound. It would be, the building had been designed to withstand earthquakes, fire and acts of terror and it was likely to be up and running again by morning, nothing was allowed to get in the way of The Law.

Anderson found Dredd sat on top of the barricade where they'd found Hershey, his back to the carnage, his arms resting wearily on his knees as he stared into the distance, the mega-blocks rising out of the sprawling cityscape against the light-polluted night sky.

"Hey, how is she?" Anderson asked as she sat down beside him.

"Third degree burns to her lower face and trachea." He said, the words were clinical but the emotion behind them, for once, wasn't.

"I'm sorry." Anderson rested a hand on his knee. He flinched at the contact, unused to being touched, but he didn't pull away so she left it there, hoping it helped in some small way.

"We need to find this guy." He said.

"I know." Anderson ran a hand through her soot caked hair and took a steadying breath as she calmed her mind and sought out who she was looking for. She started at their position and scanned outwards picking up on random flashes of personality and dismissing them as soon as they didn't fit. She kept going further and further out, the process exhausting and depleting what little reserves she had left. She was only partly aware of her own body but realised that Dredd must have picked up on how much it was affecting her, as she could feel his steadying hold on her shoulders.

When she did find him, it felt like a seeping warmth of satisfaction, the Conduit wanted to be found and she could see him grinning slyly. He was stood on a rooftop, but a relatively low one, perhaps about twenty or thirty stories, mega-blocks towering over him on all sides. There was another presence beside him, hidden in shadow, but she could tell who it was, so alike and yet so different to the man sat beside her. She searched the scene for clues to guide her to a location, she could see the freeway snaking out towards the horizon, still lit with slow moving traffic despite it being long after midnight, there was a billboard advertising the latest reality tv drama on the next block over, but those billboards for those insipid shows were everywhere, so far this wasn't enough. As she delved further into the image, a voice echoed in her head, deep and gravely, "Joe will know where to find us." And then with a jolt that felt like a physical push, she was back in reality, falling backwards with the force of the severed connection into Dredd's protective hold.

"Are you good?" Dredd asked as she regained control of her body, clearly feeling uncomfortable about the physical contact but unwilling to let go until he knew she wasn't going to tip off the back of the barricade that they were perched on.

Anderson nodded, "thanks." Dredd let go, a little too hastily. She wished it wasn't so awkward. She knew that Dredd had always had a hard time being close to people, the way in which he shunned touch almost made her wonder if there was some deep seated trauma that he was still reeling from. What was apparent was that last night hadn't helped, she couldn't imagine what it must be like to have someone take over your body and force you into situations that were so alien to you, so against everything you stood for. She was trying not analyse what had happened to her, the muddy waters of whether or not she had actually consented were something to be navigated another time, but what she did know was that Dredd hadn't stopped thinking about it. His aura, for lack of a better word, had always been an impenetrable wall, carefully constructed out a sort of deep, righteous anger that held everything else in check, but now waves of guilt were washing over everything and making the wall crumble. She was worried that unless he got a grip on it, that his wall would break down and she worried about how he would cope without it. But what could she do? He seemed unlikely to want to talk about it, the only thing she could hope was that by beating this Conduit and his brother, he would be able to find some peace with what had happened.

"I saw them. They're on a rooftop of a small residential block, near the freeway. He said you'd know where to find them." The emphasis she put on 'he' left no doubt as to who she was talking about.

Dredd nodded. "Robin Hood Gardens. It's where I arrested him."

"What happened between you?" She asked before she could think better of it. She was surprised when he actually replied, even more surprised when he took off his helmet and ran a hand through sweat-slicked hair.

"Rico was always the best in the academy, he scored the highest in aptitude tests, always beat everyone in the physicals. The council and the cloning tecs were so proud of him, they thought they'd created the perfect judge. They started looking at me and trying to work out what they'd done wrong. Against the other students I was still outdoing them, but they wanted to know why I wasn't getting those last extra points Rico was. In hindsight I think I just didn't have the same drive to beat him. The attention went to his head, he thought he was indestructible, which was fine until we got out into the real world. He realised that there were pleasures that we were being denied and he was arrogant enough to think he could break the rules and get away with it. He started taking more and more chances, and the crimes got worse. When he realised that I wouldn't join him, and that he was on the verge of doing something I couldn't turn a blind eye to, he stopped talking to me. When the council found out he'd been taking protection money they dragged me in, they thought I was in on it. When they couldn't find any evidence they sent me after him, I had to prove where my loyalties lay. I didn't want to believe it but when I tracked him down to Robin Hood Gardens I found him with his LawGiver to the head of a resident who could no longer keep up with their payment. We fought, he nearly killed me, splitting my skull and causing this scar," he indicated the thick white line that intersected his handsome face. "His sentence should have been death for the assault on me alone, but the council lessened his sentence as they felt their own failings towards us were in part to blame."

Anderson didn't know what to say. For a start, it was probably the most words Dredd had strung together in his entire life. And the depth of emotion and raw honesty in his story cut her to the bone, but how do you react to that when the man speaking those words had shunned every attempt at comfort and human connection he'd ever been given? "We're going to finish this, and we're going to do it together." She promised.

Dredd nodded his agreement, "But we do it my way. He's still my brother." He looked at her and she felt then that she could almost get lost in his haunted eyes.

"Whatever you need. I'm here for you partner." She smiled.

"Good." He stood, stretching out sore muscles and replacing his helmet. "Let's go rookie." He said with the merest hint of a smile.

***

They rode in silence towards the building. Having Dredd's heavy frame on the back of her bike threw off her usual balance but she enjoyed the feeling of him nestled against her back and found amusement in the waves of childish grumpiness he was giving off at not being able to ride his own LawMaster.

Robin Hood Gardens was one of those blocks that had never lived up to it's name. Perhaps the architect had imagined something else, a haven of greenery and life in an otherwise grey metropolis, but it was clear that by the time it was built they'd done away with any pretence of a garden and had just made it out of the same rough concrete as everything else. And it had fallen into disrepair quicker than the other blocks, as other larger ones had sprung up around it, over half of it had been decimated by fire, thick black scorch marks up the windowless Eastern side, and the whole thing had been condemned years ago. The former residents had been relocated by the government but it hadn't stopped squatters moving in and now it was just as full as before, thousands of people taking their chances in a block that could crumble at any minute.

As they pulled up and Anderson killed the engine, she could feel the stares of people as they watched from their windows. Thankfully she couldn't feel the same mass hysteria and rage that she'd felt at the other locations. Dredd could feel the eyes on them as well and he looked up, scanning the building for hostiles.

"They're not under mind control here." She told him. "But we're in the right place, I can feel your brother."

Dredd nodded, "Yeah."

Anderson wondered if he could feel his presence there too, a lot of research had been done in the enhanced psychic connection between twins.

Leaving the LawMaster they strode into the block, through the front door which was hanging off its hinges and headed for the elevator across the hall. There were no official shops and services available at Robin Hood Gardens unlike the lower levels of the other big blocks, but some had set up a stand serving tacos and another was sat on a blanket spread out on the floor selling bootleg alcohol in the small lobby. Dredd gave him a long look and the guy scrambled to his feet.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. They're not for sale, I'm just..."

"Having a midnight picnic for one?" Dredd finished off with a growl making Anderson and the taco guy laugh. "Just don't be here when we get back."

The man nodded and swept his blanket up into his arms, the bottles clinking together as they were caught up in the material. He slung the whole lot over his shoulder and scurried off. The two judges paid him no more attention and carried on to the elevator.

"You should be funny more often." Anderson commented as they got to the elevator and pressed the button for the top, the 26th floor.

"For some reason, whenever I'm round you, I'm usually concentrating on not getting killed." He grumbled.

"And here's me thinking the same thing about you." She paused and gave him a long look, what she could see of his face was as inscrutable as usual and his psychic walls were back in place. "You ready for this?" She asked as the elevator crawled up the last few floors.

"Yeah." Was his only response.

"You look ready." She teased. But he just grunted at that.

The elevator creaked up towards the top of the building. The tension was coming off Dredd in waves and their slow ascent was making it worse. Finally, just when Anderson was starting to think her colleague would grind his jaw so hard he'd break a tooth, there was an electronic 'ping' and they came to a shuddering stop.

The doors opened revealing a corridor of heavy metal doors, the final floor of the building, a broken window letting in the cool night air at the far end. Two of the doors had been broken when they'd been forced open by squatters and there was the sound of a television playing from one of them. At the far end of the corridor was a service hatch in the ceiling. The lock had been broken and a rusty metal staircase had been pulled down from the open trapdoor, guiding them up.

Dredd went first, his heavy boots clanging on the metal, making no effort to hide his approach. Anderson could feel the thoughts of the family watching television, listening to those boots, holding their breath, wondering if judgement was coming for them. A closer reading told her the daughter was drug dealing and the father had once hit a man with his car and hadn't stopped. Crimes both, and Anderson considered coming back, but she knew the reality was as soon as she was back on duty there would be a never ending list of murders and kidnappings and home invasions and she'd never find the time to get back.

She followed Dredd up the stairs and came out onto the roof, the wind whipping her hair in front of her face as she stepped out into the night air. Dredd was stood, feet planted firmly on the ground, hand hovering at his LawGiver, ready to draw. She came and stood beside him and stared out across the expanse of roof out to the horizon where the sky was just beginning to lighten with dawn.

"I don't see 'em." Dredd muttered. "But I know they're here."

"The Conduit is using mind manipulation to stop us from seeing them." Anderson explained.

"We know you're there." She called out, her voice sounding loud against the background hum of traffic and electricity in the streets far below. It wasn't a mega-block but at twenty-six stories, it was still high enough to be considered high. The wind carried it away and she felt a surge of vertigo at being reminded just how even at this height it would be a long way down.

They didn't appear, Dredd turned to look at her and then suddenly backhanded her across the face with a gloved hand. The force of it snapped her head back and sent her flying to the concrete with blood in her mouth. She landed heavily, cracking her head back on the floor. Stunned and blinking back stars, she could only hold her arms up to try to defend her face as Dredd loomed over her, dropping to one knee so that he straddled her and delivering a solid punch to her jaw.

"You should wear your helmet, rookie." He growled, punching her again in her stomach, sending all the air from her in a huff and leaving her gasping.

"Dredd!" She struggled with starving lungs. "This isn't you." She struggled to reach for him but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head.

He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "He's listening. He's crying out for you, I can hear him. He cares about you, more than he's ever cared for anyone, perhaps even more than he ever cared about me."

Anderson tried to fight, tried to kick him off or break his hold but he'd had the same training she'd had, and he was just so much stronger. She tried seek out his mind but the Conduit was strong, she'd be unable to break the connection without physical contact. She looked up at his hands pinning at hers, his right one enveloped in his thick leather bike glove, his left bare save for the bulky plastic-cast that came up to his knuckles, and with that thought, a plan was formed.

"You should tell him how much you want him, how much you want to be pinned down and fucked by him again. Admit it's the only thing you've been able to think about since I left you raw and aching for more. When I kill you, the guilt will drive him mad." He smirked and that expression with that mouth was just so foreign.

"He told me about you, you know." She said, controlling her voice so that it was steadier than she felt.

"Yeah?" He asked, grinning evilly.

"He told me how pathetic you were. How you were so desperate for approval you just had to win, even if it meant giving your own brother a beating, just to get a pat on the head and a 'well done' from the instructors at the academy." She added this detail, but she knew just how brutal the academy could be, she was confident she was right.

"Shut your mouth." He snarled at her.

"He said you were top of the class but as soon as you got out into the big wide world you were just another judge and you couldn't cope. Couldn't live without the constant adoration you craved, and so like a sulky teenager, you acted out. You needed attention and you'd get it any way you knew how."

"You little bitch. You're lying." He shifted his weight on her, he was getting angrier, it was working.

"He cared about you, you were his brother, but he never respected you."

And that did it. He drew his left hand up and, ignoring the plasti-cast, or perhaps enjoying knowing how much pain it would cause them both, he made a fist and threw it into her face again. Anderson set her jaw and let him do it. The edge of the plastic caught her lip and split it open, his knuckles caught her nose and blood erupted from her right nostril, but it was the skin on skin contact that she needed so at the moment of impact she concentrated her mind and pushed.

She felt her mind connect with his, felt the burning anger of Rico Dredd and the frustration and pain of his brother buried behind him. With a mental shove, she took Rico and the Conduit by surprise and with the not insignificant help of Dredd who was also fighting against the intrusion, they were forced out of his mind.

As Dredd was brought back to control of his body he almost collapsed onto her, catching himself on trembling arms just before crushing her under his weight. It took him a fraction of a second to recover but Anderson noticed it, as a flare of panic, but then the control was back. There we're underlying emotions too, worry, guilt, but carefully hidden.

He didn't say anything, he knew he didn't need to as he got to his feet and hauled her up with him, resting a hand on her back to steady her as her head span. Up ahead of them stood Rico in jeans and a tight black muscle tee, Anderson could see his face now, Dredd but with a light beard and no scar, although it looked as though his nose had been broken even more often. Beside him stood the Conduit, the mental cloaking gone when they'd been overpowered out of Dredd's mind. Dredd drew his LawGiver and fired.


	8. Chapter 8

The bullet hit the Conduit in the chest and flung him backward. And then Anderson became acutely aware of the woman in the open apartment below, her eyes never leaving the television screen as she flicked the small switch in her hand and then the floor disappeared beneath their feet.

There was a dull boom and the block trembled once before a huge crack opened up and everything tilted, collapsing inward. Anderson reached out instinctively for Dredd but he was already slipping away from her, managing to keep his feet under him as he skidded down a huge chunk of the roof that suddenly split off and sailed into the hole it left in the middle of the block.

Anderson had no such balance, she landed heavily on her back and it was all she could do to keep her head up as the rough ride tore up her thick armour and suddenly she was in the air arms pinwheeling before her feet landed on something about three metres below. The impact jarred her knees, but it didn't stop there. She landed in a crouch and tried to grab something secure as the piece of concrete she was stood on disintegrated. There was a bit of rebar sticking out a bit of wall that looked solid. She grasped it but it slipped right through her leather gloves and suddenly she was falling again.

The pain that shot through her body when she landed again, was indescribable and she blacked out for a moment. When she came to she found herself staring up at the dawn light through a ragged hole of metal and concrete. Thankfully, all blocks had been built to withstand earthquakes and bomb blasts, so only the top five fire damaged levels had succumbed to the explosion. She was laying in someone's hallway somewhere around the twenty first floor.

There was a beat of silence as the dust settled and then someone from an adjoining room let out a scream and that started a cacophony of wailing and crying. Anderson looked down at herself and saw that she'd landed, partially propped up on debris and that a large piece had landed on top of her crushing her torso and legs. She tried to wriggle out of it but that caused further pain to flare in her stomach, thighs and lower right leg that left her gasping. She turned to look for help but came face to face with a young girl, her face shattered by a porcelain sink that had fallen from above.

The sight of the dead girl threw her into a panic and she searched frantically for Dredd. Suddenly, she saw his head peer out from the floor above and then he was scrambling down to her, navigating the drop down by sliding feet first off the edge and then hanging from his right arm and aiming for a patch of relatively uncluttered floor. He made the drop seemingly effortlessly but as he came towards her she could see he was limping heavily and had a large gash on his chin.

He dropped down to one knee beside her and gazed at her eyes, it was unnerving being scrutinised and yet she found his gruff presence comforting. "You've got a concussion." He surmised. "You really should wear your helmet." After the admonishment he turned to the debris pinning her. He inspected it quickly and placed his hands beneath it and began to lift. Anderson let out an involuntary scream at the movement, even though he'd barely moved it so he stopped. He crouched down lower and ran his hands across her stomach in the narrow gap between her body and the slab of concrete, he stopped not too far in and the frown deepened. He reached over and pressed the red SOS button on her wrist communicator, sending her GPS to the control room and other nearby judges.

"What?" Anderson asked, breathlessly. When he drew his gloved hand out it glistened with blood.

"Don't move." He tore open the trauma kit that was attached to his kit belt, taking out a couple of syringes and giving them a shake before uncapping them. "Morphine and a coagulant." He explained, finding a tear in the shoulder of her jacket and using it to inject through into her upper arm.

"Shit." Anderson cursed, causing Dredd to look up just in time to see what she was seeing. Rico, who appeared to have avoided the blast completely had appeared above them and suddenly dropped down landing on Dredd's back.

Dredd roared and tried to stand to try and throw his brother off but whatever had happened to his leg had weakened him and Rico, who had wrapped his muscular arms around his neck, was too heavy.

As Dredd struggled to throw him off, Rico laughed. "Still keep that knife in your boot?" He asked, reaching down and pulling the aforementioned blade out and driving it into Dredd's back, just above his hip.

Dredd grunted in what must have been incredible pain and found the added adrenaline to force himself to his feet. He staggered backward, slamming him into the wall and then driving an elbow into his face. It was enough to release the hold around his neck but as Rico slipped away he reached down and grabbed Dredd's LawGiver.

Dredd spun around and tried to snatch his weapon back but Rico kicked him in the chest, forcing his backward before aiming the gun at his face. Anyone else and the gun would have exploded in their face and taken their hand with it, but not Rico as they had the same DNA. Anderson ignored the pain in her body and reached for her own LawGiver. She drew it with a shaking hand and aimed at Rico, realising as she pulled the trigger that the ruggedised casing was cracked. Rather than fire it just blinked with a red error message. Devastated, she let the broken weapon fall from her fingers.

"How'd you get off Titan?" Dredd asked. Anyone else would have put their hands up in surrender with a gun in their face but not Dredd, who tugged his glove off, touched the wound on his back then inspected his hand to gauge how much it was bleeding. He shrugged at the considerable amount of red on his hand and then put his glove back on.

"That's the question you ask?" Rico said, fuming.

"I know they didn't let you out, so clearly there are holes in their security that need fixing." Dredd explained.

Rico shrugged, "I killed a few people, hijacked a shuttle. It was worth it to see you brother."

"And is holding a gun to my head the family reunion you envisioned?"

Rico smiled predatorily, "Since the moment you put me there."

"And everyone else you killed was what? A way to draw me out? Showmanship?"

"Well she..." he tipped his head at Anderson, "was just for fun. It's been a while. Shame I seem to have broken her, she won't be much use to you now."

Dredd shuffled almost imperceptibly at the mention of his fellow judge, it was the first indication he was anything but in complete control.

"The rest was to take out as many drokking judges as I could."

Anderson could feel her vision greying at the edges as her breathing became laboured, but she closed her eyes and sought out Rico's mind. She found him easily, burning with rage. She looked into his thoughts and found it a jumble of memories; the first time he pulled the trigger, the feeling of power it gave him to watch the creep's head splatter all over the wall; a murder scene, one of his first, the bodies all laid out in clinical rows and a pair of older judges stood over it all, casually discussing what they were going to eat, a sense of futility; stapling up a wound, stomach growling, it was almost payday but until then he'd be hungry, while noticing out of the corner of his eye someone he recognised, a suspected drug dealer, drive passed in a Mercedes, greed; a leaner, clean shaven Dredd stood over him, blood pouring from beneath a cracked helmet, placing handcuffs on his wrists. That last one was played over and over as he built his rage, but Anderson searched through his memories and pushed a different one to the fore; two little boys, one leaning over the barrier of the top bunk down to the other as they whispered in the dark.

The sudden flash of memory caused Rico to falter, the LawGiver wavering almost imperceptibly. It was enough for Dredd though who grabbed his wrist, shoving his gun hand wide as he kicked hard, driving his boot into Rico's knee. Rico's knee gave out but he dragged Dredd down to the ground with his and then they were suddenly rolling around on the floor, each one fighting for control of the weapon.

As Anderson struggled to control her breathing and pounding heart, she lost the psychic connection. She tried to move again but the slightest movement brought a gasp to her lips and tears to her eyes. Scared of what Dredd had found, she let her own shaking hand trace down her body and under the concrete that pinned her. Her fingers became slick with blood and then they found metal. It was an iron rebar and it had impaled her through the stomach. She closed her eyes and gulped down the rising panic.

Across the debris-strewn room. Dredd had landed heavily on his side, grasping the LawGiver with both hands as he tried to prise it from his brother's grip. Rico kicked at Dredd's thigh wound and punched at the knife wound in his lower back. When that didn't work, he tore Dredd's helmet from his head and swung it, smashing him in the face with it. When it still wasn't enough for Dredd to let go, he repeated the assault over and over with a deep, throaty cackle. "At least I don't have to worry about messing up your good looks. Someone already did that."

"Yeah, you, you asshole!" Dredd growled. It just made Rico laugh some more, but the laugh turned into a roar as Dredd sunk his teeth into Rico's wrist, hard enough to taste blood. That was the thing that released his iron grip on the LawGiver, as his fingers splayed involuntarily and he drew back his hand. Dredd pulled his LawGiver away, snatched his discarded helmet and replaced it, before scrambling to his feet. He made it as far as his knees before turning his gun on his brother who, less injured, had managed to stand quicker.

"Your crimes;" Dredd began in his coldest voice.

"You can't kill me, I'm your brother." Rico scoffed, although for the first time, he looked a little nervous.

Dredd ignored him and talked over him. "Inciting two riots, causing the death of six judges and countless citizens, facilitating in the detonation of explosives causing the deaths of more citizens, including that little girl right there." He pointed to the dead girl beside Anderson. Rico continued to protest but it feel on deaf ears. "Mind control of a judge, sexual assault of a judge, attempted murder of a judge. For that last one alone, the judgement is death. Any last words?"

"You know this is all your fault." He spat. "If you'd joined me when I'd asked we could have been unstoppable. I needed my brother, not the unrelenting robot they made of you."

"You stopped being my brother the moment you took a life that was not yours to take. Judgement stands. Goodbye Rico." And with that Dredd double-tapped the trigger. A bullet tore a huge red hole in his chest, while the second entered his head right between the eyes, spraying Dredd with bits of bone and brain matter. His body crumpled as he fell back against the rubble, staring lifelessly with the one eye he had left after the bullet had obliterated the other.

Anderson watched Dredd as he stared at his brother, his body heaving with exertion. She tried to reach out telepathically but it was like hitting a wall, closing her off. She wondered how he'd learned build his defences so quickly, but then realised it wasn't to keep her out but to keep him from feeling, it wasn't something he'd learned in the last few days but had carefully constructed over the years, he probably hadn't even been aware of doing it. When he turned to her his mouth was set in his usual frown, and then he limped to her and sank heavily to his knees by her side.

"The 'coag' is working." He informed her, inspecting her wound in an almost detached manner. He still tore into the trauma kit and pulled out some thick white dressings that he used to pack around the entry point.

Anderson was struggling to maintain her grip on consciousness, she tried to talk to him but all that came out was a mumbled, "'Kay?"

"You're gonna be fine. Think I can here our back up arriving now." He replied. She wondered if he was misunderstanding her on purpose.

"No," she shook her head. "You 'kay?" But she couldn't stay alert enough to hear the answer.


	9. Epilogue

She woke up to bright lights and a repetitive beeping. She had a splitting headache and a bad taste in her mouth and when she tried to move her whole body screamed in protest. It felt like the lower half of her body was smashed into a thousand pieces and any attempt to move caused them to grind together. She could feel the bandages wrapped firmly round her stomach and the way her breathing pulled on the staples that held her together. She was unable to move either leg, they itched and burned and moving a hand to scratch at them, she found them both encased in plasti-casts from toes to hips.

She screwed her eyes shut and breathed through the pain until it was back at controllable levels and she could open her eyes to a stark white room, crisp sheets and a bank of machines beeping softly. She was in the corner bed of a large 8 bed ward with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. She'd been here before, due to the dangerous nature of their job and the need for security, the Halls of Justice had their own state of the art infirmary in the upper levels, she'd never seen it so full though, every bed had someone laying in it, either asleep or playing quietly with a data pad. A nurse was at the far end of the room, chatting quietly to one of her patients while she monitored the life-support systems of the patient in the adjacent bed. Anderson tried to sit up to see if she could recognise anyone but the movement made her body scream in protest so she decided to stay where was was. She could read a few of the names that were displayed on the monitors beside the beds though, and realised with dismay that the woman opposite her was Hershey. From what Anderson could see, her skin looked grey and lifeless. She was still unconscious and her breathing was being done for her with a ventilator. Her blood pressure was being displayed on the monitor, Anderson was no expert but the numbers looked low.

The nurse caught her eye and gave her a smile. She came over and checked Anderson's machines and IV line, speaking in hushed tones so as not to disturb the other patients. "You're doing well, how do you feel?"

Anderson thought about lying and putting a brave face on but found herself giving in. "I hurt. A lot." She replied, her throat dry and croaky.

The nurse found her a button on a cable and put it in her hand. "This is for your painkillers. Press it as much as you like, you can't OD. I'm going to let the doctor know you're awake and she'll come and see you."

Anderson just nodded weakly and pressed her button a few times. The drug worked quickly and she could start to feel the pain easing off.

"He's been here all night, you know." The nurse said. When Anderson gave her a confused look she just gave her head a little nod, indicating she look beside her. In a chair between her bed and the window was Dredd, dressed in borrowed scrubs, head propped up on his arm, fast asleep. Her brain was so fogged from pain and drugs she'd missed him completely. His face was badly bruised and there was a cut on his eyebrow that had been stapled closed and would likely leave a scar intersecting the one he already had. Numerous bandages were noticeable through the thin clothing and his plasti-cast was bright white and looked brand new, the old one no doubt having been replaced after the turmoil he'd put it through.

Anderson smiled at the nurse who then left to speak to the doctor. She concentrated her flagging energy and sought him out, even in sleep those protective psychic barriers were there, keeping himself from feeling too much. She could tell that trying to get him to have any kind of conversation about what had happened over the last few days was going to be almost impossible, they'd likely never again speak of what had happened in her apartment, she'd never get to hear how he felt about it, or about her. She'd likely never get to hear his thoughts on having to kill his brother either, despite the fact that it must be tearing him up inside. It didn't matter, she decided, compartmentalising and pretending something didn't happen may not have been the healthiest way to get over trauma, but they would get over it, they always did. In the meantime she was happy just to sink into her pillow and watch her best friend sleep, some bonds were just too tough to break.

The End.


End file.
